


But a Thimble Would Suffice

by Byacolate



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Other, Sick Character, Sickfic, or The Interplanetary Black Market and You
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regarding the bedside manner of assassins, it is theorized that the ends justify the means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But a Thimble Would Suffice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kind anon who prompted me with Rhys/Zer0 sickfic. I'm so sorry.

“Oh, dear sweet god.” Rhys cradles the steaming mug of... something in his hands, frigid fingertips leeching its heat. “Thanks. Seriously, thank you.” Despite his stuffy nose, he breathes deeply into the plumes of steam. It smells sharp, whatever it is, but Zer0 rests against the table to watch him drink it.

 

Folding under the pressure of a gaze he can‘t even see, Rhys blows over the top of the mug.

 

“It‘s a wonder-cure,” says Zer0. “Imported from Epitah. Illegal at best.”

 

Rhys chokes on his first sip. Zer0 lifts the cup from his shaking hands before Rhys can register the movement. It‘s a sweet gesture, Rhys thinks - keeping his tea undisturbed while Rhys hacks at the scalding liquid trickling down his windpipe. “Illegal?” he rasps, rubbing at his throat. With great deliberation, Zer0 sets the mug back into Rhys’ grasp.

 

“Try not to worry. Should the federation come,” Zer0 says, “I would protect you.”

 

“Oh? Is that…” Rhys sniffles. “Is that a thing that could, um. Happen?”

 

“Anything can happen.”

 

“Fair enough,” Rhys mumbles into his mug, more than a little put off. He’s had more than his fair share of being hunted and persecuted for one lifetime, thanks very much. The chance that Zer0 might be able to sympathize with the sentiment is a slim one, so Rhys just won’t bother explaining.

 

_Vault hunters._

 

He takes another cautious sip, and then a third. It’s not the most pleasant thing he’s ever put in his mouth, but it’s also not the worst, so that’s… something. Rhys’ throat is a little raw from all the coughing and wheezing and that one tiny choking incident seconds before, but the heat that spreads through his stomach makes it sort of worth it. He sips again. The fact that Zer0 took the time to procure illegal goods just to soothe Rhys' cold is pretty sweet, too. He sips again. And again.

 

 

And then there’s a soft, buzzing contentment that starts in his gut and ends in his extremities. Everything goes fuzzy and soft. Comfortable. Rhys hums as he sinks back into his chair, steady hands lifting the mug to his lips.

 

“What’s in this stuff?” he asks, taking a deeper drink. It’s still too hot, and it burns his tongue but Rhys can’t bring himself to care - he cares much, much more about the way Zer0 suddenly takes the mug from his hands.

 

“Something illegal. Foreign. Miraculous.” Zer0 says, and Rhys isn't sure he's the one being spoken to.

 

“I can definitely feel the miracle. Please give it back.”

 

He’d reach for it himself, but without the purpose of a mug in his hands, they’re just too damn comfortable hanging uselessly by his sides. Zer0’s helmet cocks as he examines Rhys and the mug in turns.

 

“Uh oh.”

 

Rhys blinks. Slowly.

 

“What uh oh?”

 

Zer0 doesn’t answer, but does set the mug on the counter a grueling three paces from Rhys before they leave the room. It’s unfair of them and really, really mean. Rhys sort of wishes he didn’t feel so floaty and good so he’d care more. “Dick move,” he sighs, thumping his head back against the chair. He might feel himself slide further and further down, but honestly, any chair can be a recliner with enough determination.

 

A minute or a century passes before Zer0 returns to his line of sight, and squats down to meet his eyes. Probably. They're crouching anyway, which is kind of funny, because Rhys must have slid pretty low to warrant --

 

“Huh. I’m on the floor, aren’t I.”

 

Zer0’s long fingers drift over his forehead. The touch is cool, and Rhys’ eyes fall shut. Zer0 says something that Rhys is most certainly, definitely almost listening to.

 

“I spoke with Moxxi. The instructions were unclear. I may have drugged you.”

 

“That’s nice,” Rhys says. Hopes he says, anyway. He’s pretty sure the words make it from his brain to his mouth. The expression that crosses Zer0’s helmet is little more than a red blur.

 

And then he’s either truly floating, or Zer0’s lifted him off the ground.

 

There’s a crackle and a muted woman’s voice coming from the vicinity of Zer0’s helmet, and they’re talking now, back and forth. Rhys really hopes he isn’t expected to contribute to the conversation. For the first time in days, he finally feels like the _opposite_ of raw shit.

 

Zer0 sets him on what is probably his bed but feels like a cloud.

 

“The instructions depict a cup,” Zer0 says crisply, to which the disembodied voice tuts,

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s a thimble.”

 

“Perhaps the Epitan pharmaceutical industry should consider developing a competent writing system.”

 

“I think they’re trying to discourage the expansion of their intergalactic black market, sugar. Which, judging by your boy toy, is piss poor politicking at best. A teaspoon would’ve soothed your sweetheart’s aches. This is pretty potent stuff. I’m sure a guzzle or two won’t kill him. An entire mug, though... well, it’s probably best it didn’t come to that. It shouldn't be fatal, though. Just let the herb run its course. Now, if you want to tranquilize a rakk hive -”

 

Reaching out, Rhys finds Zer0’s helmet with his hand and pats it. “Shh,” he says, patting it again. “Quiet time.”

 

Zer0 shuts the ECHOcomm off mid-sentence and covers Rhys’ hand. “The fault here is mine. I should have been more mindful. Please try not to die.”

 

Rhys thinks he laughs, because it’s really, really funny, and he lets Zer0 take his hand. Zer0’s body is a long, warm line against Rhys’, which means Zer0 must have stretched out beside him.

 

The fingers in his hair lull him further down into nearly catatonic levels of bliss.

 

“But what a way to go,” he sighs.

 

If he dies, what better way than to be drugged with illegally smuggled interstellar herbs and cuddled by a vault hunter?

 

Zer0’s blurry frowny face notwithstanding.

 

"If this doesn't kill me, I'll freak out at you tomorrow. Or. Whenever I can think again."

 

The hand in his hair pauses to cradle the back of his head.

 

"Yes. Please do."

**Author's Note:**

> Inquire about fic requests [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/ask)  
> If you are so inclined, feel free to follow [my Tumblr](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).


End file.
